


whispering like it's a secret

by prufrocking



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/F, Femslash February, Humor, Magic sucks, Rule 63, Sex, Truth Serum, everyone is genderswapped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2017-12-03 21:35:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prufrocking/pseuds/prufrocking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joan raises an eyebrow. “You tried to have a stakeout. In the daytime.”</p><p>“We had a <i>plan</i>,” Stiles replies defensively.</p><p>Joan sighs. “I think that you need to stop leaving Darcy out of these things.”</p><p>Stiles almost chokes on her milk. “Who are you and what have you done with my mother?”</p><p>(Or, in which fem!Scott gets cursed with a truth spell and it happens to be contagious.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	whispering like it's a secret

**Author's Note:**

> I was working on one of my WIPs and suddenly this happened.  
>    
>  _It was supposed to be a Sheriff Stilinski story_. And I wasn't even _planning_ on making my Femslash February contribution Teen Wolf. (IT WAS CAPTAIN MARVEL/SPIDER-WOMAN AND IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE CLEAN.)
> 
> Also, I haven't written porn in the last year and a half.
> 
> I don't even know anymore. *cries*
> 
> (Title from Florence + the Machine's "Heavy in Your Arms," which is way too serious of a song for this fic.)

“I hate everything,” Stiles moans dramatically as soon as she steps through the door and makes a beeline to the kitchen. “Mom, we have ice cream, right? Please tell me we have ice cream. This is a day that requires ice cream.”

Joan snorts derisively, looking at her daughter above the top of her reading glasses. “It’s thirty degrees out, kiddo.”

“Tell that to my _dignity_.”

“Well, your dignity didn’t let me buy any last week because, and I quote, ‘It’s the middle of winter; why would we even _need_ ice cream?’”

“My dignity makes terrible decisions.” Stiles makes a face and takes the milk jug out of the fridge, unscrewing the top and preparing to take a swig.

“Your dignity needs to _start using cups_ ,” Joan chides, setting her newspaper on the table and snatching the milk from Stiles. Stiles makes grabby hands at the cup Joan ends up pouring for her. “Michael told me another person who turned green showed up at the hospital. Wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with your sour mood, would it?”

Stiles pouts even more, sinking into her chair. She holds the cup and drinks from it with both of her hands before saying, “Lyndon decided he wasn’t going to help us with the witch. Of course, he didn’t tell us that _before_ Scout got caught and doused with a silencing spell immediately after showing up at the witch’s hiding place. Or, it was _supposed_ to be a silencing spell. It backfired and now she’s cursed to say everything that comes to mind.”

Joan raises an eyebrow. “You tried to have a stakeout. In the daytime.”

“We had a _plan_ ,” Stiles replies defensively.

Joan sighs. “I think that you need to stop leaving Darcy out of these things.”

Stiles almost chokes on her milk. “Who are you and what have you done with my mother?”

“It’s been two years since the arrest,” Joan replies. “And Darcy’s been more open to me since I found out about werewolves.”

Stiles gapes. “No, really, who are you? Darcy and open do not belong in the same sentence.”

Joan rolls her eyes. “Just trust her once in a while, kiddo.”

 

\- - -

 

Stiles is about to fall asleep in front of her computer when she’s startled by an annoying rapping sound on her window. She turns and sees Scout staring at her with puppy-dog eyes. She sighs and walks over to unlock it and let her in.

“You turned off your phone,” Scout says, worried.

“You act like you’re surprised by that,” Stiles grumbles, taking a seat on her bed as Scout sits on her desk chair.

“Oh come _on_ , it’s not like Darcy doesn’t—” Scout stops when Stiles glares at her. She holds her hands up in surrender. “Okay, fine; not going to talk about it.”

“Good,” Stiles says with a _hmph_. “Did you talk to Deaton?”

“Just did.” Scout sighs. “She said that she can’t do anything about it because the witch messed the spell up enough that it had the opposite effect of what she intended.”

“Wait, what?” Stiles frowns in confusion. “How is that supposed to work?”

“Uh, she gave me some elaborate metaphor about yarn tangles,” Scout replies. “I didn’t really get it. Either way, the spell should only last about twenty hours, so it’s easier to just wait it out anyway.”

“And it’s been”—Stiles glances at her phone—“three, so that leaves another seventeen hours for you to embarrass us in front of the pack.”

“Seven, actually, since we’re not meeting them until...” Scout trails off when Stiles gives her an unimpressed look. She smiles hopefully and tries, “On the bright side, at least the curse isn’t contagious?”

 

\- - -

 

Stiles hates Scout.

Stiles r _eally_ hates Scout.

“Are you and Eric fucking?” she blurts out to Boyd as soon as she gets to the pack meeting the next morning. “I’ve never been too sure about that.”

“Hello to you, too,” Boyd replies, rolling her eyes.

“Oh _God_ ,” Stiles groans. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. This is all Scout’s fault. Actually, it’s probably more Lyndon’s but Lyndon is a _god_ and I’d never place any blame on him. So instead I’m going to blame Scout. Because she’s the one who infected me.”

Boyd sighs. “Cursed Stiles is _definitely_ worse than cursed Scout.”

“You know,” Isabel says, “I’m not really seeing the difference between normal Stiles and cursed Stiles.”

“Screw you,” Stiles grimaces. “I’m still mad at you about taking Scout away from me last year, by the way. Actually, I think that’s the first time I’ve acknowledged that out loud.” Stiles hangs her head in dejection. “Next thing I know, I’m going to start babbling about how much I want Darcy to carry me off and fuck me into her mattress like I’m a heroine in some shitty harlequin romance novel.” A loud crashing sound comes from the kitchen. “Aaaand of _course_ I said _that_ out loud, too. I hate magic.”

“Well, it isn’t exactly news,” Eric says, smirking. “We started a betting pool on how long it’d take for you to actually jump our Alpha for real, even before Scout started telling us everything.”

Stiles glares at him, face burning. “A pool that no one is going to win because you’re all terrible werewolf beings.”

“So, judging by the fact that you’re here even after we established that the curse was contagious,” Boyd says, crossing her arms, “I’m assuming that you figured out how to quarantine it?”

“Of course not,” Stiles replies dryly. “I’m here because I want to make everyone suffer. Also, it would be impossible to arrange a remote meeting considering that Petra’s busy creeping on Lyndon again and Darcy’s allergic to technology.”

“I’m not a goddamn Luddite!” Darcy shouts from the kitchen. “I know how to use Skype!”

Stiles ignores her. “I _think_ an arm’s length should be fine. Scout and I had hell trying to keep our parents away from us, but they never got inside that bubble and they haven’t been whammied, so.” When Darcy finally emerges from the kitchen, Stiles frowns at how she arrives in the living room with empty arms. “You spent forever in the kitchen and you didn’t even make us any food?” She puts her hands on her hips petulantly.

Darcy rolls her eyes. “I was _washing dishes_.” She looks around the room, searching. “Where’s Scout? She should be here to discuss the plan before recklessly rushing in again.”

“Reckless? _Really_? Kettle calling the pot black much?” Stiles says.

“ _Stiles_ ,” Darcy says impatiently.

Stiles bites her lower lip, trying not to react to Darcy’s tone of voice. When the moment passes, Stiles finally replies, “She called me on my way here to tell me that Allan made a surprise visit after getting back from the thing with the hunters’ council. I’m assuming they’re catching up on sex or something. They have a weird honesty kink, I swear—”

“Whatever; she wasn’t going to be on the front lines for the plan anyway,” Darcy says.

“Okay,” Stiles says slowly. “So what about me?”

“You’re staying here,” Darcy replies. “It’s too risky for you to be around the pack while you’re still cursed.”

“Also, you’d probably just piss the witch off,” Isabel adds.

“Un _fair_!” Stiles protests. “Who the hell’s going to get your asses out of trouble when your plans go FUBAR like usual?”

“She’s an eleven-year-old witch, not a harpy,” Darcy snaps. “Nothing’s going to happen.” Her eyes flash red and she adds, “You’re staying here, end of story.”

“Fine, have it your way. Just chill out on the Big Bad Wolf routine, though,” Stiles says, rolling her eyes. “Puny human, remember? Alpha eyes won’t do shit. Except maybe turn me on a little. A lot.” Darcy stares at her, face unnervingly blank. Stiles buries her face in her hands and mumbles, “I give up.”

Boyd sighs. “Can we discuss the plan now?”

“Well, we could try to catch her off-guard, then tell her to stop turning people lime green because _it’s a terrible colour_ ,” Stiles suggests. “With Eric as bad cop and Isabel as good cop.”

Isabel frowns. “Why is it always us?”

“’Cause we get shit done,” Eric says with a grin, nudging her with his elbow.

Isabel rolls her eyes. “Do we have a backup plan?” she asks. “Sorry if I’m not too confident about doing the Eric-and-Isabel-interrogate-people routine for the _n_ th time.”

“Boyd corners her when she tries to escape,” Stiles replies uncomfortably.

“Why Boyd?” Darcy asks, frowning. “I could do it.”

“ _Hell_ no!” Stiles protests. “The backup plan is _not_ to traumatise her! We just need someone to drag her to Deaton’s. _Without_ scaring her off from her Gift for life.”

“I wouldn’t,” Darcy says, still frowning. Stiles gives her a _dude, seriously?_ look and she sighs. “Okay, fine, Boyd will do it. Where does that leave me?”

“You babysit Stiles,” Boyd says, like it’s obvious. “She’s not going to stay put if she doesn’t have someone supervising her.”

“It’d be _especially_ easy for you to distract her, too,” Eric adds, mouth curling into a slow smirk.

“Nope! Nope nope nope!” Stiles yelps. “Not staying with Darcy, nope! Us alone in this house is the worst idea you have ever had. Nothing good ever happens when we’re stuck together alone. Like the time she almost made me cut her arm off. The third time she did that, I mean. Do not want. Do not want at all.”

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” Eric quips.

Stiles makes a whining noise. “You should shut your stupidly pretty face.”

Eric preens. “Aww, you called me pretty.”

“Darcy, you’re being oddly quiet about this,” Isabel says, tilting her head at her Alpha.

Darcy growls. “That’s because it should be obvious that I don’t want to watch over Stiles either.”

“Well, it’s either you or we call Scout,” Boyd says. She grimaces, adding, “And that’s _definitely_ guaranteed to go badly.”

Darcy stands there in contemplative silence, scowling. Eventually, she snarls, “ _Fine_.”

“Fuck me,” Stiles groans, hanging her head.

“You gonna take her up on that, boss?” Eric asks.

“I’m not even going to give you the satisfaction of a reply,” Darcy says.

 

\- - -

 

Stiles is sprawled out on the living room floor when Darcy comes back from the laundry room.

“The hell?”

“Don’t judge me. I’m bored and my Adderall’s wearing off,” Stiles moans, staring at the ceiling. “You’re literally the only thing that I won’t get distracted from. And that seriously came out a lot worse than it sounded in my head but it doesn’t matter since you’d be pissed at me for objectifying you anyway. Y’know, like the time you slammed my head into my steering wheel. Good times, good times.”

“So you decided to lay down on the floor,” Darcy notes dryly.

Stiles turns on her side to look at Darcy. “It’s a very nice floor,” she says, patting the hardwood. “You should come join me. It’s comfy down here. We should make out a little, maybe. It would totally be the best way to kill time.” She grumbles, shifting so that she’s on her back again. “I think I’ve just given up on caring about what comes out of my mouth at this point.”

Darcy sits down on the floor near Stiles—just far enough to stay out of the range Stiles warned them about—and brushes a few tangles out of her hair with her fingers. They sit there in silence until Darcy says quietly, “It’s fine, I don’t really mind.”

Stiles licks her lips and turns onto her stomach, propping her head up with her elbows. “Sorry,” she says simply, “for being such a horny teenager and all.”

Darcy shrugs. “Honestly, I just don’t care as long as you don’t want to kill me anymore.”

Stiles winces. “Sorry for that, too.” She sighs and continues, “Shouldn’t be a problem these days, though. You’re not as much of as asswipe as you were back then. Did you know even my mom likes you now?”

“She does?” Darcy looks honestly surprised. “I thought she just stopped taking the shotgun out whenever I came by because she got used to you helping out with everything.”

“I know, right?! I even asked her if she had been abducted by aliens. She just rolled her eyes at me and told me to trust you once in a while.”

Darcy looks wounded. “You still don’t trust me.”

“Shit, no, that’s not what I meant,” Stiles says, quickly pushing herself into a sitting position. “Do you seriously think that I wouldn’t trust you after all those times we saved each other’s lives?” She sighs. “I’m proud of you, Darcy. You’re getting more confident in your position as Alpha. Scout trusts you to take care of all of us, too; she just didn’t want you to get involved in the witch hunt because she wanted to be as gentle with the girl as possible.”

“I can be gentle,” Darcy replies, frowning.

“You’re kidding, right? She who chains up her Betas and slams Stileses into walls?” She coughs. “Thanks for that, by the way. I have a wall kink now.”

Darcy raises an eyebrow. “Come here. I’ll demonstrate how _gentle_ I can be.” She pats the floor beside her.

Stiles stares at her, brain not processing Darcy’s command at all. “What part of _contagious truth spell_ do you not understand? And—and—and _you didn’t have to use that wording_! Fuck, it’s like you’re _trying_ to seduce me or something—”

“ _Stiles_. Just _come here_.” Darcy purses her lips.

“I— _what_?” Stiles stammers. “Did you not _hear_ me?”

Darcy sighs and scoots over until she’s behind Stiles, dragging her onto her lap.

“ _What are you doing_ ,” Stiles squawks, tensing up as Darcy wraps her arms around her waist.

Darcy hooks her chin over Stiles’s shoulder. “Relax,” she whispers, breath ghosting across Stiles’s ear.

“You’re breaking my brain here,” Stiles says, voice shaky. “I’m dreaming right now. This isn’t real. I’ve been whammied into imagining an alternate universe where Darcy Hale is actually attracted to me.” She whimpers when Darcy begins nuzzling at her neck.

“You’ve always driven me crazy,” Darcy replies, beginning to brush a few fingers just barely under Stiles’s shirt. Then she bites down at the base of Stiles’s neck. Hard. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Stiles gasps. She arches her back, pushing her butt closer to the junction between Darcy’s hips and stomach. She drags the base of Darcy’s jeans with her, pulling hard enough that the crotch seam brushes against her, and Darcy hisses into her neck. “What happened to gentle?”

“Shut up,” Darcy huffs. “You’re infuriating. This is real.”

“We should’ve started doing this as soon as I turned eighteen,” Stiles says with a sigh, leaning back into Darcy’s chest.

“No,” Darcy replies, voice flat. “I wanted Boyd to win the pool.”

Stiles bursts out laughing. “ _Seriously_?”

She gets off Darcy’s lap long enough to turn around so that she’s straddling her to face her. She places one of her hands on the back of Darcy’s neck, the other threading into her hair. She pulls Darcy’s face toward hers, going in for a hungry kiss, but she ends up painfully bumping their foreheads together instead.

“Ow,” Stiles says. “Okay, I may have misjudged my aim a little there.”

Darcy lets out an amused snort. Stiles is moving away to rub at her forehead, but Darcy doesn’t let her move away, diving in to bite at Stiles’s lower lip. Stiles lets out a happy sigh and starts sucking on Darcy’s tongue when she sticks it in, both of her hands moving around in Darcy’s hair feverishly. Darcy puts her hands under Stiles’s ass, trying to push her onto her knees. Stiles squeaks when they topple over and she ends up propping herself up with her hands pushing into Darcy’s breasts.

Stiles licks her kiss-bruised lips. “As hot as this is,” she pants, “it’s quite possibly the most awkward make-out session ever.”

“You don’t say,” Darcy replies, biting sarcasm blunted by the fact that she sounds just as breathless as Stiles does.

“Well ex _cuse_ me for being so out of practice,” Stiles says with a pout. “It’s not my fault that, out of everyone we know, I get the least amount of action.”

“No,” Darcy replies with a growl. “It’s _good_. Lets me keep you to myself.”

“Shit, who knew you were such so possessive?” Stiles feels a tingle run up her spine when Darcy smirks. “This really should not have been as hot as it was. I don’t know why I’m really digging the whole angry she-wolf thing.” She grins at Darcy and adds tangentially, “It should be illegal for you to be this pretty when you have sex hair.”

“I don’t think it’s sex hair when sex isn’t involved,” Darcy says dryly. After a beat, she adds, “You want to fix that?”

Stiles’s grin grows wider. “Preferably sometime in the next ten minutes, yes.” When Darcy starts pushing Stiles’s flannel shirt off, she yelps, “ _Not here_!” She digs her fingers into Darcy’s shoulders. “I was kidding about the floor being comfy. Bed. Bed now.”

Darcy sighs with fond annoyance. “You should stop being so bossy.”

“You _like_ bossy,” Stiles retorts, wrapping her legs around Darcy’s hips and clinging to her when Darcy lifts her up to carry her to the bedroom. She giggles, “God, I love werewolf strength. You going to carry me over the threshold now?”

Darcy unceremoniously drops her onto the bed and Stiles bounces. “You’re only 107 pounds; people don’t _need_ werewolf strength to carry you _anywhere,_ ” she says, pulling her shirt over her head.

“Oh my _God_ ,” Stiles exclaims.

Darcy stares at her in confusion, bending down to grab her shirt off the floor. “Do you want to stop or something?”

“ _Fuck_ no! Why would you even—I can’t— _definitely no_!” Stiles protests. “It’s just—your _bra_ —it’s _red_ ,” she says stupidly. “I thought you only owned clothes in fifty shades of grey. Which, by the way, I am actually _not_ willing to reenact.”

“Good to know,” Darcy replies wryly, shimmying out of her jeans.

Stiles squawks. “Your underwear even _matches_!”

Darcy sighs, taking them off. “As much as I like stripping with your running commentary in the background, you seriously need to get out of your clothes soon. Or I’m going to rip them off. With my teeth.”

“And you call _me_ bossy,” Stiles scoffs, scrambling out of her shirt layers as fast as she can. “Gotta say, though, definitely would prefer that you destroy my clothes and not my throat. Actually, yeah, getting my clothes ripped off me would be kind of hot. We should try that sometime later.”

Darcy tosses her bra off to the side and crawls onto the bed. “ _Later_ ,” she agrees, popping the button on Stiles’s jeans. She impatiently yanks them off with her panties in one fluid motion.

“Nobody teach you that patience is a virtue?” Stiles complains as the rough denim brushes against her skin. 

Darcy slowly kisses her way up Stiles’s body and Stiles whines, her fingers digging into Darcy’s back, urging her to move up faster.

“Did no one teach _you_ that patience is a virtue?” Darcy asks, smirking. She slows down even more, making sure to lightly drag her teeth along.

Stiles glares at her. “Oh _fuck you_ —”

“That’s my intention, yes,” Darcy quips.

“Hah, you’re a real comedian,” Stiles replies sarcastically. “Should try out for sta— _aah_ ,” she gasps, breath hitching when Darcy puts her mouth on one of her breasts, teasing at the nipple with her tongue.

Darcy gets up and licks her lips. “Hm. Would’ve done that earlier if I knew it’d shut you up.”

“See, I was under the impression that you _like_ bantering in bed,” Stiles retorts.

“Only you,” Darcy says, pushing herself up to straddle Stiles.

Stiles throws her head back onto a pillow with a sated sigh. “Other one’s more sensitive,” she says. She whimpers and digs her heels into the mattress when Darcy rolls it between her thumb and index finger. “Wow, okay, that’s one benefit of this stupid curse.”

“Is it?” Darcy hums. “Just makes it easier for me to tease you, doesn’t it?” She sticks two fingers in her mouth, taking them out with an obnoxious pop when she leans back and reaches for Stiles’s cunt. “How are you already this wet?” she asks, prodding at the opening.

Stiles makes a whining noise, scrambling to push herself up and away from Darcy’s fingers when they start to go in. “Gee, I’ve only been getting off on imagining you for the past year or so,” she pants, spreading her legs. “Ugh, stop— _stop_.”

Darcy moves her hand away, worried that she’s pushing Stiles too far for the second time that night. “Is this—”

Stiles growls, “It’s _fine_! Dammit, just assume that everything you do is fine unless I start to _actually_ push you away with both my arms and legs.” She spreads her legs even further when Darcy finally relaxes and continues, “Just—if you don’t let me go down on you first, this is going to be over in like, five minutes.” She paws at Darcy’s chest and shoves her down, making sure to squeeze her breasts before flipping their positions. “I’m kind of completely incapable of doing anything after I come.”

“And that’s a _bad_ thing?” Darcy says, raising an eyebrow.

“I am a _lady_ ,” Stiles says with a pout. “It’s polite to return a favour.”

Darcy sighs, sounding more fond than annoyed. “You’re completely ridiculous.”

“And you love it anyway,” Stiles replies smugly. She pushes Darcy’s legs apart and kneels in the space between.

“I do,” Darcy says, gasping when Stiles starts thumbing at her clit. “Love _you_ —”

Stiles stops, staring at Darcy in shock. “Wait, what?”

“Shit,” Darcy hisses, looking pained. “I didn’t—you—” When Stiles’s expression doesn’t change, she sighs, disappointed. “Maybe this was a mistake.”

She bends one of her legs to swing it over Stiles’s thighs to get up, but Stiles quickly catches it and holds it there.

“ _No_ ,” Stiles croaks. “Me too,” she whispers, moving to lie down on her stomach and hook one of Darcy’s legs over her shoulder. “I— _relax_ , Darcy. Don’t—don’t think about it right now and just— _let me_.”

She looks imploringly over at Darcy, brushing her lips against the inside of Darcy’s thigh. Darcy gives her a shaky nod and Stiles smiles into her skin. Darcy starts sighing softly when Stiles tries to leave a trail of hickeys, only to get more and more frustrated when the marks go away after a few seconds.

“I _hate_ werewolf healing,” Stiles mumbles, eyebrows furrowing.

She starts moving upward with her bites, making Darcy whine in annoyance at how Stiles is putting her mouth everywhere _except_ her pussy.

Darcy taps at Stiles’s back lightly with her heel, growling, “Stiles, if you don’t start—”

“Okay, okay, keep your panties on,” Stiles replies, laughing. “Wait a minute,” she says after a pause, “that really doesn’t work in this situation, does it?”

Darcy snarls impatiently and Stiles sighs, licking her lips before taking Darcy’s clit into her mouth and sucking. Darcy pushes her hips into the bed, gasping as Stiles starts to lick at the underside of it. Stiles makes a happy noise and sets a faster rhythm, nostrils flaring as Darcy starts rocking her hips instinctively.

“Fuck, _fuck_ —” Darcy groans, threading her hands through Stiles’s hair. Her feet push against the sheets, slipping every time she cries out. “Stiles—” She cradles Stiles’s face and pushes her away.

Stiles gives her a confused look as she returns to a kneeling position. Her lips are glistening and Darcy thinks she looks _beautiful_.

“Wha?” Stiles asks, dazed. “Did I—?”

“No, no,” Darcy replies, brushing her thumbs against Stiles’s cheekbones. “Just—here,” she says, pulling Stiles in for another kiss.

It’s messier than their last ones, teeth clicking as they struggle to figure out where to put their hands. Darcy manouvres one arm in between their bodies as she reaches for Stiles’s cunt, sticking two fingers inside her when she finds it. Stiles moans against her mouth as they move in and out, palm rubbing against her clit.

“Oh _God_ ,” Stiles pants. She tries to grab Darcy’s wrist to slow her down and says, “No— _fuck_ —I _told_ you to _let me_ —”

“ _No_ ,” Darcy says with a grin. She sticks another finger in and Stiles gasps, bucking her hips.

“God, I _hate_ you,” she replies, breath shaky. She lets go of Darcy’s wrist and wiggles her arm around as she gropes around for Darcy’s slit, whining when she can only barely touch it. “This totally needs to be less awkward,” she says in between gasps.

“Awkward has been our entire day,” Darcy laughs, hissing when Stiles finally manages to rub against her.

“You—you should laugh more,” Stiles breathes out. “You’re pretty even when you’re— _ah_ —grumpy, but when you _laugh_ —” She starts to mewl when Darcy hooks her fingers, pushing on her pubic bone and rubbing against the most sensitive spot in her.

Stiles stops moving her fingers against Darcy, tensing as she ends up pushing her arm out from between their stomachs. Her hands settle near Darcy’s hips, fingers digging into her thighs.

“You’re so perfect like this,” Darcy whispers, “beautiful, _mine_.”

Stiles whimpers and starts trembling, hips rocking against Darcy’s hand off-rhythm. She moves her arms to bracket Darcy’s head, and they barely hold her up as her hands clutch tighter into the pillows. “You can’t just—can’t just _say_ stuff like that—” She gasps, “F-fuck, I’m going to—”

Darcy uses her other arm to grab Stiles by the back of her head. She kisses her and it pushes Stiles over the edge. Stiles cries out against her mouth, entire body convulsing against Darcy as she rides it out. Darcy takes her fingers out and holds Stiles, her kiss becoming more gentle when Stiles collapses on top of her.

Stiles moves her head away and lets it hang over Darcy’s shoulder. “You haven’t come yet,” she mumbles, trying not to fall asleep.

Darcy pushes the both of them onto their sides, not letting go of Stiles. “Later,” she says.

“Okay,” Stiles replies, snuggling closer to her. “You’re comfy,” she murmurs, slowly falling asleep.

 

\- - -

 

Stiles and Darcy are startled awake when they hear Eric swear loudly outside as soon as the pack gets back. “Son of a _bitch_!”

“Time to pay up,” Boyd says, smug. “Remember, _a hundred_. From _both_ of you.”

Isabel knocks on the bedroom door and says, “Darcy, we got the girl to agree to training because we bribed her with ice cream. Should we get her a giant teddy bear as a thank-you from you guys, too?”

“Do whatever you want,” Darcy replies grumpily.

“Boyd, you’re paying for it!” Eric declares.

“Oh _hell_ no—”

Eric’s the one knocking on the door this time. “Darcy, can you Alpha-eyes her or something?”

“ _No_ ,” Darcy growls. “Now fuck off, I’m trying to sleep.”

“You know,” Stiles muses, “technically no one wins the bet because I wasn’t the one who started it.”

“TMI!” Isabel groans. “I am going to go to my room and pretend I didn’t hear any of that.”

“Hear that?” Eric says defiantly. “You didn’t win _anything_!”

A fourth set of footsteps enter the house and they hear Scout suddenly say, confused, “What’s going on?” After a pause, she shouts out, “Oh _God_!”

“Yup,” Boyd says. “Unresolved sexual tension has been resolved.”

Scout groans. “I think I’m going to go inhale some perfume now.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me on [Tumblr](http://bokekkomi.tumblr.com) if you want.


End file.
